


only a matter of time

by wandasmaximoffs



Series: off kilter [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, So much angst, a little bit of backstory haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9180661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandasmaximoffs/pseuds/wandasmaximoffs
Summary: Grantaire laughs when he sees the picture tucked neatly into the upper left corner of the folder, because it matches the one on his lockscreen and his computer wallpaper and he wonders when this absoluteshitshowof an agency gained such astellarsense of humour.He laughs, and he doesn’t stop for a very long time.





	

Grantaire laughs when he sees the picture tucked neatly into the upper left corner of the folder, because it matches the one on his lockscreen and his computer wallpaper and he wonders when this absolute  _ shitshow  _ of an agency gained such a  _ stellar  _ sense of humour.

He laughs, and he doesn’t stop for a very long time.  
  


* * *

  
Marius opens the door quietly, slips in with the stealth he’s so revered for and sits down across from him.

(Grantaire doesn’t open his eyes. Marius is a genuinely kind and caring person, and he doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy he no doubt is barely restraining.)

“Grantaire,” He says, softly, and Grantaire grunts in acknowledgement. He doesn’t want to talk right now. He doesn’t think he’ll want to talk for a long time.

Marius sighs. “Cosette says Valjean wants you to take some leave. Courfeyrac wants to know where you are, and Combeferre wants you to know that Enjolras--”

 

He cuts himself off sharply, and Grantaire starts to laugh again. It’s desperate, and broken, and every so often his voice cracks and it sounds eerily like he’s crying. But he’s not. He’s laughing.

(He has to. He has to laugh, because if he doesn’t laugh at this hilariously fucked up situation, he’ll start crying, and he  _ can’t _ . He can’t start crying, because if he does  _ that  _ then he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop.)

 

This is what they are, really, isn’t it? This is what it was always going to come down to, in the end. He never expected a proper goodbye, when his time came, or when Enjolras’ time came-- Not for him, or any of his friends, because he knows how this works and that’s  _ not  _ how this works. 

 

But he-- He wanted more time. Christ. He thought they’d have more _ time.  _

 

Marius is still looking at him. 

 

“I,” He says, and his voice is thick and his eyes are still closed but Marius doesn’t comment on either of these things, bless him, “I want to talk to him. Valjean. Or-- Lamarque. Javert. I don’t fucking care, whoever the _fuck_ was running this op.”

Grantaire opens his eyes.

 

Marius hesitates. 

 

Here is a known fact: Grantaire is companionable and friendly, but he is deadly in his rage. He can see Marius calculating carefully, can practically  _ hear  _ him thinking on whether or not to let him leave. 

“Can I-- Can I ask why you want to?”

“Fuck, Marius, I’m not gonna do anything rash. I just--”  _ Don’t want to go home yet. Don’t want to see the others. Don’t want to look at this file anymore. Don’t want to drink so much I forget what Enjolras looks like. _

He swallows. “I don’t know. I don’t know, just,  _ fuck. _ ”

 

He’s crying. When did he start crying? He’s not sure, but he was right, he started and now he  _ can’t stop,  _ his vision blurring and his breath hitching. Marius looks out of his depth, pity and sympathy and uncertainty all rolled into one freckled ball of nervousness. 

 

Grantaire is deadly in his rage, yes, but he is devastating in his grief. 

 

Marius watches him for a few seconds, cautiously, before nodding slowly. “Alright,” He says, “Alright. C’mon.”  
  


* * *

  
“That was really something.” Says Cosette, pushing off of the wall she’s leaning on when Grantaire finally leaves Valjean’s office. Her words are soft, though, lacking any real edge even though she’d just heard him curse her father out, very creatively, in at least three separate languages.

“Yeah.” Grantaire says, clipped, voice hoarse from yelling. He’s so tired.

Cosette bumps his shoulder. “Can I drive you home?” She asks, arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

 

Grantaire nods.  
  


* * *

“He didn’t have clearance to be on that op.” He says, later, from the passenger seat of Cosette’s pink Audi. “He-- Promised me he wouldn’t go. I knew they’d approach him, even if he’s not cleared for it, I fucking  _ knew  _ they would, and he  _ promised _ \--”

“Take a breath, R,” Soothes Cosette, and it’s only then that Grantaire realises he hasn’t been breathing properly.  
  


This has been happening a lot today. It’s getting tiring.   
  


“I’m sorry,” Says Cosette, quietly, when he has his breathing under control again. “I’m so sorry, R. This whole situation is so-- Fucked up.” 

 

It is. It is fucked up, and it’s a situation that Grantaire has lived over and over in various nightmares, in various cities, but he was always there when it happened. He was always there to hold Enjolras’ hand, or to stroke his hair and kiss his head and to tell him that he was okay, he’d be okay, even though they both knew he wouldn’t be.

He wonders if that’s selfish of him, to wish he was there, to wish for a few more moments, a last kiss, some last words. He wonders if it would hurt more, to have those last few seconds, or if it would make it easier.

 

(He knows, he  _ knows,  _ that nothing could ever make this easier.)

 

They spend the rest of the drive in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> oh man this isnt really Anything but i felt bad abt how little ive been posting lately so :vvv as always feel free to hmu on tumblr @ jehanprouvaiire if u have any prompts or requests or u just wanna chat!!


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